


Toy Soldiers

by Vesper_Whispers



Category: Glee
Genre: Hostage Situations, Humor, M/M, Mystery, Parkour, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24729823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesper_Whispers/pseuds/Vesper_Whispers
Summary: Warblers in action! Dalton High is taken over by hostage takers and Blaine is a BAMF. What do the bad guys want and will Kurt and the Warblers survive? I just want to see the boys kicking-ass.AU: Mystery, Suspense, Humor, Smut and some violence.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. One

**Chapter One**

When Blaine opened his eyes, he was greeted by the same cool sunshine that wakes him every morning. It's the same light that sweeps through the room reminding him to sort his messy desk piled with notebooks and facsimiles, to put away the unfolded cloths crumpled on top the leather arm chair, and to clean up the little dust-bunnies beneath his dresser. But rather than groaning at the unwanted chores that mock him every weekend, a smug smile crept up on one corner of Blaine's mouth as he slowly tightened his arm around the boy laying next to him.

Kurt. His. Kurt.

The same cruel light that tortures Blaine every morning is now somehow caressing Kurt's soft, translucent skin, making it glow… _Like an angel,_ Blaine thought. He had to stop himself from wanting to pull down the covers and fully bathe Kurt's naked form in pure light, just so he can discover and examine every little mark he had left on Kurt's body after last night.

"Mmm…" Kurt moaned in his sleep as his body reacted to Blaine's tightening embrace, and instinctively curled up against his lover. Blaine beamed another protective smile, but felt his composure crumble as his gaze locked on to the little flickers of movement from Kurt's long golden lashes that trembled a little dance across Kurt's serene, beautiful face. Blaine wanted to stand on top of a mountain and just SCREAM his heart out. He wanted to grab this otherworldly creature next to him and just shake it until he can understand. God, he wanted to… he wanted to…

Blaine's mind froze when the lashes steadied themselves and slowly unveiled two hidden sea-green orbs. "Blaine?" Kurt whispered as his eyes darted around, unsure of his surroundings.

"I'm here, baby," Blaine replied softly, smoothing his hand over Kurt's lower back. "It's still early."

Kurt shut his eyes, content. But moments later, gave a little chuckle.

"What?" Blaine was baffled. And still slightly annoyed at himself for waking Kurt up when the boy so clearly needs rest. Especially after last night, Blaine thought and sneaked in another smug smile.

"I think I might be a little hungry," Kurt replied sheepishly.

"Oh! Of course!" Blaine was mentally kicking himself for being such an inconsiderate boyfriend. "What would you like, pancakes? Waffles? Bacon? Biscuits and gravy? Eggs? Oh wait, I mean, fruit and yogurt?"

"Blaine!" The countertenor rolled onto his back and gave out a lyrical laugh, "Biscuits and gravy?" Kurt kept laughing and tried to sit up, but grimaced when he tried to hoist himself up.

"Gosh, Kurt, I am so sorry," Blaine immediately got up and started fawning over Kurt, all arms and fingers but not really sure what to do. "I am so sorry I got carried away last night. It was your first time and I really should have been more gentle..."

"Blaine!" Kurt grabbed and steadied Blaine's hands. "Stop blabbering and look at me."

Blaine saw the most beautiful, loving smile in the world.

"Last night was… amazing." Kurt blushed furiously as his mind formulated his next words, "You were amazing. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way."

Blaine sat back a little, and laughed apologetically into his hands. "Kurt Hummel, you do not know the things you can do to me." Then he reached over, lightly tilted Kurt's chin and leaned in for a chaste kiss.

As their lips lightly touched, both closed their eyes and for an eternal second, felt like the earth had stopped spinning on its axis.

But the bliss was short lived. Blaine's stomach began protesting loudly.

A very disgruntled Blaine pulled away as Kurt started giggling.

Blaine looked at the clock on his desk – 7:49 a.m. "The Lima Bean should be open by eight. Why don't I drive over to pick us up some coffee and muffins? That way you can get some more rest before I get back."

"Mmm, I'd like that. But I think I'll jump in the shower really quickly. I need to catch up on my moisturizing routine." Kurt brought his hands up to his face, "I must look awful right now."

Blaine leaned in and mischievously whispered in Kurt's ear, "Darlin', you know that term 'afterglow'? Well whoever invented that term should hire you as a poster child, because I assure you that your skin is positively glowing right now."

Kurt turned into all shades of scarlet as Blaine climbed off the bed and started fishing for cloths to wear. _Well, at least I get to watch him do a reverse strip-tease_. Kurt thought, marveling at Blaine's toned body as the boy slid an old Dalton shirt over his head.

"Oh, wait, I totally forgot," Blaine opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small rectangular box. He sat down on the side of the bed, and handed the box to Kurt. "Here, open it."

Kurt's eyes widened as he gently took the box from Blaine's hand, and slowly lifted the cover. He gasped as he saw what lay inside. A thin, silvery metal chain, with a small, heart shaped stone attached to one end. Kurt couldn't quite make out the stone, maybe garnet, given its blood red color. But the clarity and brilliance is closer to that of a diamond.

"Oh Blaine, I don't know.." Kurt's first instinct is to not accept such an extravagant gift. He knew Blaine comes from wealth, but they are both just kids. "Is this a bracelet?"

"Well, actually, I think it's more like an anklet." Blaine chuckled as he lifted the chain from its box and snaked it on the palm of his hand, showing the length of the chain. "Or maybe it was a necklace for a baby?"

"You don't know what it is?" Kurt asked. Then he gasped under his breath, "Blaine Everett Anderson, did you steal this from a baby?"

"What? No!" Blaine furrowed his brow and scooted closer to Kurt.

"Kurt, please focus, I need you to listen to what I am about to say," Blaine's tone was serious, commanding, even.

"This is from my father. Not my dad, I mean, my step-dad. My biological father." Sorrow flashed quickly across Blaine's eyes as he stroked the chain with a finger.

"Remember I told you that when my father died, he left me a large trust fund with very specific instructions? Like when I turned 16, his attorneys told me that I was to receive a car of my choice? Every year on my birthday, his lawyers would contact me with the instructions that he laid out in his will," Blaine shook his head. "I guess it's his way of making sure he is always a part of my life."

Kurt reached out to hold Blaine's hand, pressing the bracelet between their palms, "And this anklet? Was it a present from him, too?"

"Yeah, a few months ago, right before you came to spy on the Warblers, actually, his lawyers asked me to fly to Geneva to empty out a safety deposit box. It was odd because it wasn't my birthday, but the bank manager was expecting me. Apparently before my father passed away, he had given the bank instructions that I was going to show up that day."

"And this was what you found?"

"Well, this and a bunch of papers. I think.." Blaine's voice cracked a little. "I think they were his journals."

"Oh Blaine," Kurt cupped Blaine's face with his hand. "Blaine, have you…?"

Blaine leaned into Kurt's hand, and gave a sad chuckle, "No… I want to, I do, but I just…" Kurt can see that Blaine really doesn't want to talk about that right now, it was obviously too painful for him. So he tried to change the subject.

"I think this anklet is beautiful." Kurt whispered.

"I showed it to my mom, thinking that maybe it was meant for her," Blaine was still reliving the moment. "But she doesn't recognize it at all. She wanted to get it appraised by a jeweler, you know, to see how much it's worth. But I really don't care about its monetary value. Even if it's just a cheap piece of glass, it is still something he gave me. I think it's meant for something."

Kurt nodded empathetically.

"Then last week, when we were planning this weekend, I just couldn't stop thinking about wanting to give you something, something that is a part of me," Blaine turned Kurt's palm up and pressed the chain into Kurt's hand. "I want you to have this, Kurt."

Tears slid down Kurt's face as he looked deeply into Blaine's golden eyes, "Blaine, I am so honored. But this belongs to you, to your father." He placed a finger on Blaine's lips as the boy began to protest. "But I will be so happy to wear it, to be its keeper. As long as you let me, I will never part from it."

Blaine grabbed Kurt toward him into a tight embrace, and it quickly turned into a heated kiss as each furiously tried to savoir and taste the other. Blaine couldn't help but let out a low growl when Kurt gently pushed him away.

Gasping for breath, Kurt gingerly slid a leg out from under the covers and pointed his toes in an elegant arch. "Put it on me?"

Kurt couldn't help but smile at Blaine's stunned face. He could almost hear Blaine gulp as the dazed boy reached and lightly caressed the top of Kurt's extended forefoot.

"Don't stare, Blaine. You know how insecure I am about my feet."

"Nonsense," Blaine is now cradling the heel with one hand and tracing the fingers of the other over the delicate green veins beneath ivory skin. "How are your feet so soft?"

"It's called a good moisturizing regiment, Blaine. You don't really think I spent all those two hours in the bathroom just rubbing my face, do you?" Kurt teased, and wiggled his toes as only a diva could. "Now put that anklet on. I really need my morning cup of coffee."

"As you wish."

Blaine hooked the light chain and placed a kiss on Kurt's ankle where the heart charm rested, tasting the blood-red stone against the soft skin.

"You and your foot fetish, Mr. Anderson!" Kurt exclaimed, further testing Blaine's sanity by tucking his leg back under the covers.

Blaine took a deep breath and smiled, then proceeded to exit the dorm room. Before he closed the door behind him, he turned around and paused to take one more look at his angel, naked and lying in his bed. "How about if we cancel all our plans and just lock ourselves in this room all day?"

"I thought you said Wes and Thad have been planning for their afternoon barbecue all week. And didn't you say I am the guest of honor since this is the first time I've been back at Dalton after going back to McKinley?"

"Damn Wes and Thad and their culinary inclinations," Blaine muttered under his breath as he slid out the door.

* * *

Blaine had just turned on to the main street from the Dalton parking lot, and was barely even a quarter mile down the road, when two garbage trucks sped by in the opposite direction. Slightly puzzled, Blaine watched in his rear-view mirror as the trucks made a sharp turn into the Dalton parking lot.

 _How odd_ , Blaine thought to himself, garbage service on a Saturday?

* * *

Kurt was just getting out of the shower and beginning his moisturizing regimen when he heard two loud bangs coming from the courtyard. No, wait, Kurt corrected himself. They were more like distinct popping sounds, one right after another, followed by an eerie silence. Kurt looked into the courtyard through the window and saw nothing but empty wooden picnic tables and benches. It's the weekend and most Dalton students have gone home. Only the few out-of-state boarders remained.

Kurt opened the door to Blaine's dorm room and poked his head outside to see if there might be any one out there. He looked down the hall and saw Jeff doing the same thing.

"Jeff, what are you doing here? Don't you live like an hour away?" Kurt stepped into the hallway and walked toward the tall blond boy.

"Hey, Kurt! Long time no see!" Jeff was happy to see a fellow Warbler – correction, ex-Warbler – and started moving toward Kurt as well. "Wes and Thad said that they are testing out this amazing barbecue recipe, so I thought I'd stay and be one of their guinea pigs."

"Oh Jeff, have you not learned from the last time you participated in one of their culinary experiments? We had to ban you from gym class because you were sweating onions and garlic."

Jeff just shrugged.

"And remember that time when you cried buckets after tasting their chili pepper stir-fry?"

"Ha ha! Yeah that was funny wasn't it?" Jeff exclaimed, earning a _bitch-please_ look from Kurt. "Hey I'm like a noble court taster. You know, I'm all for taking one for the team, and being noble."

"Nobel, yes," Kurt arched his impeccably groomed eye brow. "Nobel because they die, Jeff, they die."

Then Kurt jumped as another loud pop vibrated through the walls, much louder than the last two.

"Hey," Jeff grabbed the arm of the startled boy to steady him. He looked down the hallway. "I wonder if we should go check out the courtyard."

"Yeah, I thought the first two sounds came from the courtyard, but when I looked outside, I didn't see anything," Kurt replied.

"Probably someone's tires just blew?" Jeff suggested.

"No," Kurt stated. "I grew up around cars my whole life, and let me tell you, those were not the sounds of blown tires."

Kurt and Jeff began to hear footsteps hastily moving up the stairwell, growing louder and louder as the person approached the top of the stairs.

"Wes!" Kurt called out when the person came into their line of sight at the end of the hall. It took a second for Wes to focus on them, and when he saw Kurt and Jeff, he started dashing toward them. They could see something was terribly wrong from the terror on Wes's face, and the way he was holding onto his left shoulder, a dark red stain was seeping through his gray Dalton sweater.

Kurt froze as Wes grabbed him and Jeff. "Quick! Get the hell out of here before they find you! I just saw them shoot the groundskeeper."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on FF.net as WIP. Will attempt to complete this year on AO3.


	2. Two

**Chapter Two**

When Blaine approached Dalton's Campus Drive, the first thing he noticed was the news vans parked alongside the road with their satellite antennas spinning against the cloudless sky. Then he noticed the flashing red lights, the cop cars, the yellow tapes blocking the front gate, and behind the tapes, rows of people with cameras and spot lights. Blaine started decelerating and stared at the spectacle through the wind shield of his car. With Katy Perry blasting in the stereo, the scene just seemed surreal. _Are they filming a movie here?_ Blaine thought as he came to a rolling stop. A man in a police uniform approached his car door. Blaine noticed that the officer's right hand rested directly on the gun in the unbuttoned holster on his belt and quickly turned off the music and rolled down his window.

"Sir, my name is Blaine Anderson and I am a student here at Dalton," Blaine stated, noticing the officer visually scanning the insides of his fancy sports car. The officer looked at the two coffee cups in the cup holder, and then paused at the brown paper bag on the passenger seat.

"What's in the bag?" The officer stated coldly, his hand still resting on his firearm.

"Two muffins and a yogurt parfait," Blaine furled his brows, recognizing the emanating tension. "Can you let me know what is going on here? I live on campus and I would really like to get back to my room. I'd be happy to show you my ID."

"Where is your family, son?" The officer spoke right past Blaine.

"My parents live outside Westerville, about 30 miles from here," Blaine does not like where the conversation is going.

"I want you to turn around, and drive directly home, you hear me? Go directly home."

"Sir, my… ugh… roommate… is waiting for me in the dorm." Kurt's serene face was still burnt vividly in Blaine's mind as he tried to reason with the officer. "I'm supposed to bringing him his coffee and breakfast."

The officer looked at Blaine with unreadable eyes, "Listen, kid, there is a situation at the school right now. Nobody can get in or out, okay? I don't want to repeat myself again. I want you to go straight home. You hear me?"

Blaine knew he wouldn't be able to get through to the policeman, so he proceeded to turn his car around.

As Blaine sped away from Dalton, an unsettling feeling in his chest began to grow. He watched the vanishing commotion from his rear-view mirror, holding himself back from the urge to just plow right through the blockade with his car so he can get back inside. He reached in his back pocket and fished out his phone.

"Fuck…" Blaine cursed as he saw the green light blinking on his phone, indicating text messages waiting for him. He had silenced his phone last night and forgot to turn the sound back on.

He immediately pulled over to the side of the road and unlocked his phone.

* * *

**From Kurt:**

Killer on campus. Don't come back Blaine. Am with Jeff and Wes right now, we are fine. Hiding in the storage room.

Sent: 8:16 AM

* * *

Blaine felt like he was stuck under water. He can see the words but they just float in front of him refusing to sink into his brain. He had to read and re-read the text numerous times to comprehend their meaning.

Only a few minutes ago he was drifting in total bliss. Now he has been plunged into a nightmare. Blaine brought his palm up to his forehead in disbelieve. He shut his eyes, hard. Counting to three, he hoped that when he opens them again, he will wake up next to Kurt, their skins pressed together, all of this just a bad dream.

Blaine took a deep breath, opened his eyes and scrolled down his text screen.

* * *

**From Wes to Warbler distribution list:**

I called the police. On their way. If you are on campus HIDE.

Sent: 8:17 AM

* * *

**From Dave to Warbler distribution list:**

Where are you guys? They are on my floor searching room to room. I can hear them yelling. They want people to step out to the hall or get shot if they find you hiding.

Sent: 8:19 AM

* * *

**From Nick to Warbler distribution list:**

See them rounding up people in the courtyard outside Matthews. WTF is going on?

Sent: 8:20 AM

* * *

**Trent to Warbler distribution list:**

Are you guys alright? I just told my dad. He's calling people and will get help. I am so worried. Please don't do anything crazy. Dad says maybe ransom situation. Don't resist and everyone should be okay.

Sent: 8:20 AM

* * *

**From Flint to Warbler distribution list:**

Already ahead of you. My mom is calling the governor. We are still fucked.

Sent: 8:21 AM

* * *

**From Nick to Warbler distribution list:**

There is a team of them. I'm guessing at least 7, maybe more. I see people in the dean's office through the windows. They are rummaging through the file cabinets. I think they are moving people into the Salisbury Commons now.

Sent: 8:24 AM

* * *

**From Dave to Warbler distribution list:**

I hear police sirens. Shit they are right outside my room.

Sent: 8:24 AM

* * *

**From Wes to Warbler distribution list:**

What is that sound? Is that a machine gun?

Sent: 8:27 AM

* * *

**From Wes to Warbler distribution list:**

Dave? Nick? Hello?

Sent: 8:29 AM

* * *

**From Dave to Warbler distribution list:**

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Sent: 8:30 AM

* * *

Blaine shuddered and reminded himself to inhale before he suffocates from forgetting to breathe. He realized that his fingers had gripped the phone so hard his knuckles were completely stiff. He noticed the scroll bar is almost to the bottom of the page. He forced his thumb to move across the screen and his heart stopped when he read his final text.

* * *

**From Kurt:**

I am so sorry I couldn't say those three words back to you last night. I felt it but I was a coward. I am forever thankful for you. Wes says we need to surrender or they might shoot us. I am so scared right now but I will be strong. If I ever see you again I want to say to you Blaine I lov

Sent: 8:34 AM

* * *

Blaine stared so intently at the white space after the character "v" his vision was slowly turning to black. He couldn't dare to think what had forced Kurt leave his declaration incomplete. Blaine had often felt different from other people, separated. But never had he felt so totally alone right at this moment. _My God_ , Blaine thought as he buried his face in his hands. _Stay alive, Kurt, please stay alive._

He tried to call Kurt, but the phone went directly to voicemail. Same for Wes, David and Nick. Finally, he dialed Trent's number, and it was picked up after one ring.

"Blaine! Thank goodness, are you guys okay?" Trent was screaming over the phone.

"Trent what is going on? I… I'm not on campus right now."

"Wait, what? Where are you – "

"Look, I'm off campus, okay? Just tell me everything you know," Blaine cut Trent off impatiently. He wanted, no, needed, to know more or he feared he might just lose his mind right there in the car.

"Have you not been watching the news? It's all over the news." Blaine could hear various voices in the background at the other end of the line. A pained expression crept up Blaine's face as he heard Trent confirm his worst fears: "They said some terrorist group took over the school. They are holding all the students hostage. I think they killed a security guard… They just let most of the staff go, but Headmaster Sinclair is still there. Look, my dad called the Chief of Police and they said that they have the school surrounded, but they can't do anything because the FBI and Homeland Security guys are on their way, plus – oh wait, something is coming on TV right now…."

"What? What is it?" All Blaine could hear were more noises at the other end of the line.

After what seemed like eons, Blaine finally heard Trent's voice again through the phone.

"The terrorists just broadcasted this message through one of the stations," Trent's voice sounded distant. "They wanted some prisoner to be released – some old guy that's in U.S. custody right now, awaiting trial. Plus they want money and a plane. Oh god…"

"Trent keep talking," Blaine wanted to reach over the phone and shake the other boy for stopping.

"Okay, okay, they said that they rigged the entire campus with explosives. If the feds try to storm the school, they will blow the whole school and kill everyone with them…. What? Dad shut up, I'm talking to Blaine on the phone right now… No he's not one of the hostages…" Trent's voice trailed off again.

Blaine was just about to start yelling when Trent's voice resumed, "My mom's on the phone with Flint's mom right now. Okay… okay. The FBI is there now, but Mrs. Wilson said that they have so little info on the terrorists they are probably just going to stall. Plus they are worried about the government not wanting to negotiate... What, mom? Okay… The Board of Trustees is hiring their own negotiator. Most of the parents have been contacted..."

Blaine pounded his head into the steering wheel. He hated that everything was spinning pass him but he had absolutely no control of the situation. Hundreds of formless thoughts were zipping through his brain but unable to congregate into a coherent thought. _Focus, Blaine_ , he forced him to concentrate. _There is always a way to control the situation._

As if on cue, Kurt's beautiful face flashed before his eyes and, suddenly, Blaine knew exactly what he needed to do. It was crystal clear to him now. He felt his breathe stabilizing and that dreadful feeling of helplessness has completely disappeared. Blaine has always been a man to trust his instincts and every fiber of his being is ready to take action.

"Trent, thanks so much. I'm going to go now, okay?" Blaine's steady voice sounded so different that Trent thought another person was speaking on the phone.

"What? Okay. But what are you going to do now?" Trent asked.

"I'll be in touch soon, okay? Bye Trent." Blaine has no time to waste and his foot was already on the gas pedal before he hung up on Trent.

The only thing keeping Blaine from his destination was the physical reality of time and space. But Blaine wasn't complaining. These were just steps; boxes to be checked off. They have to follow a logical order, but he knew exactly what he needed to do, one right after another. It was all mechanical, no improvisation, at least not until he gets to where he needed to be. With that assurance, Blaine switched into autopilot.

Blaine drove a bit further down the main road away from Dalton. After checking to see there were no cars or witnesses on either side of the road, he took an abrupt right turn onto an unpaved path off the main street. He can feel the loose dirt and random dips beneath his tires as the path winded into a heavily wooded area. Blaine came to a part of the path where a poorly hand-written sign stating 'road ends in water' on a rotten plank of wood was nailed to a tree. Rather than following the path all way down to the lake, however, Blaine stopped a little after the marking and got out of the car. He walked to the side of the path lined by dead shrubs and reached for a hidden branch. After a few tugs, the uprooted shrubs gave away and started moving as Blaine slid the tree branches and all its connected dried foliage to the side, revealing yet another hidden clearing in between the trees. Blaine got back into his car and steered onto the clearing. Blaine turned on his headlights and carefully navigated his way through the tall trees, making sure to spot any fallen branches ahead the shaded path. He can' afford any accidents from his plan right now. Not when he can literally taste where he should be.

When Blaine spotted the wooden rail track in front of him, hidden from all except for those expecting to find it, Blaine gave a little soft cheer. Being a part of the in-crowd at Dalton had its perks. Blaine certainly enjoyed the attention and the reverence. But what he appreciated at the moment, more than anything, was the knowledge that came with that exclusive elitism. More than half of the Warblers were legacy admissions, meaning their dads or uncles had been a student at Dalton, many years before. Passed down through legacy chains were secrets about prep school: histories, rumors, and old tales. Being the lead soloist of the Warblers, despite being a fairly new transfer himself, Blaine was given a free ticket to Dalton's secrets.

Blaine turned his car on to the abandoned railroad, and kept moving down the obscured tracks. Before long, a rundown mossy shack, haphazardly boarded up by wood planks, appeared along the edge of the tracks. It was an old abandoned rail station, built probably in the 1800s at the height of the mining boom that jump started the region, now discarded like lost memories. Lost, maybe, Blaine thought, _but not forgotten._

Blaine parked his car behind the shack, knowing that it would be hidden by the structure from the view of anyone who may accidentally venture out into this neglected area of the woods. Blaine approached the shack and pushed open the creaky doors. The place was littered with dusty old boxes, crushed beer cans, and nameless rusting tools. Even an old oil lamp was hanging from the ceiling, lightly swaying against the light breeze through the open door. To anyone this place would look like exactly what it was: a wasteland. But for Blaine, he had never felt more familiar.

"Welcome to the Dalton Country Club," Blaine announced. He quickly moved about the room, picking up an old backpack left at a corner and opening up certain boxes to gather up the items he had made a mental note of during his short drive through the woods.

When he was done, Blaine exited through the back of the shack, and found himself standing on the ledge of a small cliff overlooking a river – one of the many tributaries of the Westerville Lake. During its glory days the railway probably extended onto a bridge across the river, but now only the old discarded building remained.

Using his feet, Blaine lightly tapped along the dense wild grass along the edge of the cliff, until he felt what he was looking for. Obscured by the green undergrowth was a thick rope on the ground, damp and darkened by age. One end led back to the shack, tied to one of its foundations, and the other was draped and extended over the cliff.

Blaine grabbed onto the rope and started to lower himself down to the river. The rope was knotted every foot or so to help the many Dalton boys who have came before him. Even before he reached the water level, Blaine could see the large black hole against the side of the cliff, framed by a thick metal cylinder poking out through the eroded soil – an old storm sewer drain. Blaine swung the rope a little with his body to angle himself and dropped himself onto the bottom of the metal tube. Blaine reached in his backpack to pull out a wire rope cutter, knowing the Dalton headmaster recently put a new metal fence in the drain after students complaint of rat sightings. Sure enough, after moving a little further into the darkness, Blaine was faced with a wired mesh covering the entire opening.

Using the metal cutter, Blaine quickly moved through the links and ripped an opening in the meshing. Blaine then maneuvered through the hole and gracefully zigzagged his way through the channel, avoiding the still water at the bottom of the pipe. He had a flashlight in the backpack, but the darkness in the drain was something he had experienced so many times before that he felt no need to waste time. Except for the cold feeling of the metal wall against his steadying hands, the total sensory deprivation was actually quite calming. A smirk rose in Blaine's face as he remembered once debating whether to bringing Kurt down to the club house. Kurt moving through this storm drain, grabbing the rope with his well manicured hands. Blaine almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of that thought. Basically that was the end of that idea.

Blaine could see the rays of light in front of him, and felt the adrenaline begin to pump through his veins.

This is the big time now. Blaine mentally prepared himself as he moved closer to the opening at the end of the tunnel. He wasn't ready, but no one is ever ready. He just knew he can't turn back now. The minute he steps out into the light, he will need to be fully alert and prepared. He is going to have to think on his feet, be fast, and react. This is now the defining moment. The moment he steps off the pipe, he will be back in Dalton.

* * *

"What are they doing?" Kurt whispered to Wes as the boys stood next to each other in a row, in the middle of the courtyard.

One of the masked captors, a large mountain of a man wielding an equally large machine gun, had instructed the group of boys to stand in a single row. Wes, Jeff, and Kurt were amongst them, the last boys to be rounded up, as they understood. The others had already gone through the drill and have been ushered inside to the Salisbury Commons.

As the boys stood side by side, another captor was slowly moving down the line with a handheld device, examining each individual boy slowly, and then looking back onto the tablet. Rather than a ski mask, the guy wore a black tuxedo mask, with a string tied to the back of his head, revealing the tousled blond hair and his crooked, menacing smile.

"I think they are looking for someone specifically. Isn't that what it looks like?" Jeff suggested. Wes looked at the blond guy thoughtfully.

"We need to know what he is looking at on his tablet," Wes stated softly, never lifting his gaze from the interaction that was about to involve them. "Jeff, after he finishes looking at you, fall or do something to make him pivot or shift his attention. Kurt, you and I will try to get a look at what the heck he is looking at on there."

Jeff stared at Wes for a moment, looked back at the tuxedo mask moving ever closer to them, and nodded, "Okay, I'll do it."

As the masked man approached Jeff, he observed Jeff's height, light blond hair, baby blue eyes, and shook his head as he looked back onto the tablet he was holding before him. He next took a step to his right to move toward Wes. Right then, Jeff gave a startled yelp.

"Ouch! My leg!" Jeff started hopping on one leg and fell forward toward the ground, slightly brushing the masked assailant, just enough to knock him back a step before landing hard on the dirt.

"What the fuck?" The masked captor took one more step back, visibly tense and angered by the interference. The large mountain of a man started moving toward Jeff as well.

Shit, this is not going well. Wes raised his hands and started to diffuse the situation, trying to protect Jeff from any potential beat down, or worse, being shot. "Please calm down, calm down. I think he might be having a leg cramp or something. Please help him."

Meanwhile, Kurt had been completely oblivious to the chaos happening right next to him. His mind had went into shock the moment Jeff attempted his diversion. He saw what was on the phone the minute the captor turned toward Jeff. It was the same face that had been on his mind for almost every second of his life in the past few months. The same face that he pictured in front of him as he tried to stay brave when the captors barged in on their hiding place in the basement.

On the screen of the tablet was a picture of Blaine Anderson.


	3. Three

**Chapter Three**

Blaine certainly appreciated the fact that everything in life has been handed to him on a silver platter. And he is smart enough to know that, as long as he conforms, he can basically coast through his entire life with no questions asked. The one time he stepped out of line, at the Sadie Hawkins Dance at his old school where he brought a boy as his date, he was cruelly reminded of the consequence of his indiscretions.

But every once so often Blaine would look at himself in the mirror, with his perfect house, perfect car, perfect family, perfect friends, and see a total stranger.

Maybe it was that ever bearing sense of loneliness that led Blaine to learn parkour at an early age. Just knowing that he himself, his stamina, resolve, and ability to navigate physical obstacles, is the only thing standing between point A and point B has always given Blaine solace.

One thing led to another, and once the Warblers learned of his hobby, Blaine quickly became the point man in the many prep school pranks that will forever solidify the true legend of the Warblers. After all, the trick is to never get caught. The Warbler council, through generations of refinement, has come to recognize that most pranks are best pulled with speed, agility, and improvisation. Blaine's slight stature has never been something to brag about, but when one has to strap on a stone saw on his back, scale the Dalton clock tower in the darkness of night, saw off the head of the third gargoyle down from the lightening rod, and then shimmy along the rain gutter to sneak into the headmaster's third story office via the window, replace his paperweight with the said head, and then extricate oneself and still make Italian study group for alibi? There is a reason the Warbler council dotes on the blithe-footed, couch-hopping, Blaine Anderson. You can even say he earned his solos, fair and square.

Blaine's many moonlit escapades atop the Dalton buildings no doubt gave him an unfair advantage over the hostage takers, one that Blaine was happy to exploit. As he perched behind the stone lion statute on top one of Dalton's corner towers, he had a complete view of the entire campus while being carefully hidden.

With his phone, Blaine quickly snapped pictures of the campus, making sure to focus on the active hotspots. There was one goon with a huge tri-potted machine gun in the clock tower, overlooking the front gate of Dalton Academy – no doubt the first line of defense against anyone trying to drive through the iron gates. At the other end, the west-side of campus, another man was laying flat against the rooftop cradling a sniper rifle, overlooking the high walls surrounding Dalton. Another giant man seemed to be inspecting something on top the roofline, and was returning indoors.

Blaine looked down, and saw two men inside the headmaster's office through the windows. One tall, elderly bald man dressed in a three-piece suit was sitting in Headmaster Sinclair's desk, looking through piles of thick files. Another, young, skinny Asian man in white was sitting on the green leather couch, sheathing and unsheathing the katana sword in his hands.

Finally, Blaine could see a few of the hostages, the boys who remained on campus today, through the windows of Salisbury Common. They were being watched by a blond man in a tuxedo mask and a woman who, without a better description, _looked like Catwoman_ , Blaine noted.

Blaine kept his gaze on the open windows of the Salisbury Commons, hoping to get a glimpse of Kurt. His eyes squinted against the sun as he prayed for one sign, just one sign that Kurt is still alive.

The Fates must have been good to him today.

Blaine's heart skipped a beat as somebody shifted and he could see the poised backside of a body he had just hours ago became intimately familiar with. Carefully styled brown hair, followed by a graceful upright back arch. Even though he couldn't see the face, Blaine knew that was his Kurt. _His Kurt was alive._

Blaine didn't even realize the tears until he felt something cold and wet as the breeze brushed against his face. Blaine touched his cheek in shock, embarrassed at the unexpected outburst of emotion. But as he recalled the soft moans and warm whispers last night when they made love for the very first time, Blaine shook his head and smiled.

After composing himself, Blaine quickly attached the photographs in an email.

* * *

**To: Trent**

Get these photos to the FBI or whoever is in charge asap. Trent I am counting on you.

* * *

As Blaine waited for Trent's response, he slid down to the floor and rested his back against the cold stone guard. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, a little shaken as his antics finally caught up with him. Blaine was both excited and frightened. Frightened, not of his current predicament, but of himself. Months ago, Blaine Anderson would have just driven right home as the officer instructed. Months ago, Blaine Anderson would not have tried to take matters in his own hands, pulling a crazy stunt like this. Months ago, Blaine Anderson would have been perfectly happy being perfect.

On the outside, everyone continued to see Blaine as the same dapper lead soloist. But Blaine knew that meeting Kurt, being with Kurt, and loving Kurt have shaken him at the core of his very being. With Kurt's every smirk and every tear, Kurt has shown him a world Blaine could never have imagined: A world where one can be free to express oneself, make mistakes, and keep walking with pride. Whereas Blaine always thought that pain and disdain served to keep things in line, Kurt's existence hinted at a new life where these boundaries can be transcended. When Blaine watched Kurt and the New Directions rehearse Born This Way on stage, Blaine didn't take Kurt's "Likes Boys" shirt as merely a call to accept his sexuality. Blaine saw it as a challenge for him to become empowered to decide for his own.

The green lit on Blaine's phone flashed, indicating an incoming email. Blaine quickly unlocked his screen. Trent has responded.

* * *

**To Blaine:**

Mrs. Wilson is on the case and made sure the pictures got to the FBI in charge. Helicopter parents ain't got nothing on this lady. She scares me. It's a good thing that the FBI is scared of her, too. Also, have you gone completely nuts? Leave right now. Mrs. Wilson said the FBI guys are expecting you. Apparently they cannot release that prisoner the hostage takers demanded and they want to talk to you in person.

* * *

Blaine furrowed his brow at the supposition that the hostage takers might not get their demands. Blaine returned the phone to his pocket and started surveying the campus again. _I will go to the FBI_ , Blaine told himself. _But I plan to bring Kurt and my friends with me._

* * *

"So what are we going to tell the old man? He's not going to like this." The blond wiry man behind the tuxedo mask asked as he scratched the side of his head with the gun in his hand.

"We are going to tell him the only thing we can tell him, Ben, the truth." Delicate fingers of a young woman dressed in black leather, wearing a black cat mask, closed the log book in front of her. "Blaine Anderson signed out at 8:04AM this morning. I guess we just missed him."

The two hostage takers were sitting across a round mahogany table in the hallway outside the main room inside the Salisbury Commons. The doors were swung wide open, allowing them a full view of the main room where all the boys were sitting.

Ben took a look around him and sneered at the ornate tapestries and panel carvings surrounding him. His eyes circled backed to the hostages and landed on a delicate young boy sitting demurely beside his friends. Ben licked his lips as his eyes squinted at the elegant neckline.

Kurt felt a sudden chill and jumped when he looked up and met a predatory gaze. Ben chuckled as Kurt quickly looked away.

"Don't get any ideas," the woman said. "They are just commodity. We get what we want, and we get out. No complications."

"And what exactly _do_ you want, Dru?" Ben asked, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head. "Just money? All this just for some cold hard cash?"

Dru looked out the window, her eyes unfocused. "Not everyone has a choice…" She looked back to Ben, "Not everyone is a psycho like you."

Just as Ben was ready to retort, two figures entered the hallway. A tall, bald gentleman approached the table, followed closely by a young, Asian man, his left hand holding a black katana close to his body.

"I see you've rounded up all the boys," The gentleman addressed Ben and Dru as they quickly rose to their feet. "And where is Big John?"

"He's checking up on the lookouts," Dru replied. Then, with trepidation, she addressed more carefully. "M, about Blaine Anderson –"

"I'm aware of the situation," M cut her of dismissively. "We have gone through all of this already. Our plan will move forward regardless. As soon as the money and Hiro's father are brought to us, we move to the next stage."

The young Asian man showed no emotion as he heard his name.

Leaving the rest of his crew in the hall, M walked briskly into the holding room. Once he was sure he had everyone's attention, M started to address the crowd:

"Do not be alarmed, gentlemen. As long as you all cooperate, I assure you that no harm will come to you."

Slowly, M started to pace around the room, pausing in front of each boy, looking intently at their faces as if he was reading their thoughts.

"Your parents are some of the most influential people in this country, in the world, in fact. Take comfort in the fact that they love you very much, and that they want you safe. So it is of utmost importance that you remind yourselves and each other to not pursue anything stupid as your parents work tirelessly to help us resolve this situation."

After surveying each student, M returned to the front of the room. "Now, there are 33 students in this room, with Headmaster Sinclair," M gestured at an elderly man who quickly wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "That's a total of 34 of you."

M continued, "As a sign of goodwill, I am not going to bind and gag each and one of you. In fact, given your good behavior, I am allowing you access to this common room, the kitchen down the hall, and the courtyard outside. But you must always remain in our sight. Every 30 minutes, on the dot, we will be doing a roll call. You are to report to this room for the roll call. If any one of you is missing, if anyone is late, I will start by killing one random person every 10 minutes."

M paused to slowly make eye contact with a few of the students. "Do we have an understanding?"

The silence was deafening, until Wes looked directly into the eagle eyes and nodded. "Yes, we do," he responded for the group.

M raised an eyebrow, and a slight look of approval flickered in his eyes, "Furthermore, please be aware that this entire campus is wired with explosives."

M waived his cell phone and continued, "This is a remote detonation device. If at any time the police tries to break in here, I can push a button and the entire school will blow up. Now the FBI and your parents are aware of this fact. So I hope you pray to God that they care enough about you to stay away until we get things done. If everyone cooperates, I assure each one of you that you will soon be back in the arms of your loving parents." He smirked at the worn-down headmaster, and added, "And donors, of course."

* * *

Once let out in the courtyard, the Warblers congregated at the circular stone couch at the far end of the courtyard. Shaded by black locust trees, the stone enclave has always been a popular spot for impromptu performances by the Warblers. But as the boys sat watching Headmaster Sinclair try to comfort the few shaken freshmen by telling them stories about Thomas Jefferson, the only song emanating from the corner was just those of the cicadas.

"Can they really blow up the whole school?" Nick finally broke the silence.

"A cell phone activated explosive device is theoretically legit," Dave pontificated. "It makes sense that they want something that can be remotely detonated. The cell phone would give him pretty good range."

"Gee thanks, Dave, your nerd talk is really assuring me right now," Flint said dryly.

The boys began casually engaging in light banter, and for a moment it almost seemed like it was just another break period in a school day.

Kurt had been quiet throughout the whole ordeal. His attention was fixated on the hostage takers, scattered about the courtyard and the hallway. Then he almost let out a yelp when a hand gently tapped him behind the shoulder.

"Don't turn around, guys, just look straight ahead." The voice was unmistakable. Kurt closed his eyes and thought he must be hallucinating.

"Is that you? Blaine? What the fuck are you doing here?" Jeff gritted the words through his teeth in disbelieve. He quickly glanced behind the stone bench, and then tensed his back as he turned back and stared straight ahead, his eyes still widened in shock. "Oh my god it is you! Are you insane?"

"My sanity is really not of concern right now," Blaine was crouched behind the stone bench, hidden in the shadow of the heavy foliage. Blaine whispered behind the nervous looking boys, "Listen to me, we can easily slip away. They don't seem to know there is a cellar door behind the stone bench. Just come around the back when they are not looking and we can all get out of here right now."

"No, we can't, Blaine," Kurt's voice broke as he willed himself to remain still instead of jumping over the stone barrier and into Blaine's arms. "We have a roll-call in 10 minutes. If any one of us is missing they will start killing other people."

Kurt can hear Blaine shifting behind him. Blaine was so close, so close, yet so far. Kurt could almost feel Blaine's heart beat. He wanted to feel Blaine so badly he was physically shaking.

"Blaine, you have to get out of here right now," Kurt whispered as tears rolled down his face. "Please, you must leave."

"I'm not leaving without you," the voice behind said. "I love you."

All the Warblers were so busy looking nonchalant that none of them had noticed how quickly Ben approached the stone bench.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Ben's eyes caught the sharp movement of the foliage behind the bench and he quickly lunged behind the stunned Warblers.

"No!" Kurt screamed as Ben landed next to Blaine and reached for Blaine's shirt collar. But rather than following through with a punch, Ben was stunned for a moment as his mind finally registered the face of the boy he was holding. Blaine quickly seized the delay and slammed his elbow into Ben's nose as he freed himself from the grasp.

"Shit!" Ben let out a scream as he stumbled back holding his nose, blood gushing through his fingers.

Blaine dove toward the cellar door but darted backward when bullets ricocheted off the metal frame in front of him. He looked up and saw Dru trying to aim for him from the middle of the courtyard. The space surrounding her was now in full panic mode as the Dalton students ducked for cover in every possible direction.

Dru shifted her stance to squeeze yet another round toward Blaine, but M grabbed a hold of Dru's arm and commanded, "D, cease your fire!"

Blaine pivoted into a dirty swan-dive and rolled toward the base of the adjacent wall. Using the forward momentum, Blaine ran up the wall, turned, and vaulted himself into the open window of a classroom on the second floor. Within a split second, Blaine had disappeared from sight.

With lightening speed Hiro moved to the same corner and followed suit. He disappeared into the same window as he pursued the boy on the run.

"Was that a boy or a spider monkey?" Dru exclaimed as she tucked her gun behind her and ran toward the corner. She turned toward Ben to examine his broken nose.

"Oh this doesn't look good," Dru whispered as Ben removed his hands.

"I'll live." Ben sniped as he angrily wiped the blood from his face.

M towered over to the Warbler boys, and with one swift hand gesture, signaled for them to get off from the floor and return to their seats on the stone bench.

Ben walked to stand beside M, glaring at the nervous bunch. "That was Blaine fucking Anderson."

Dru let out a little gasp, "Are you sure? He checked out this morning. Why would he bother to sneak back in?"

M smirked. "Well, well, well. This certainly has gotten interesting." M turned around and signaled for John to keep his eyes on the remaining hostages and then returned his fixation on the Warblers.

After a few minutes, Hiro reemerged in the courtyard, his sheathed sword tapered to his willowy form.

Kurt let out a sigh of relief when he saw that Blaine wasn't with him.

"The boy is very fast." Hiro bowed his head as he approached M. "He knows the layout well."

"Oh I wouldn't have expected otherwise," M replied. "He is his father's son."

Turning toward the Warblers, each still sitting obediently on the bench, M asked: "So would you boys care to tell me about the conversation you were having with Mr. Blaine Anderson?"

The Warblers hung their heads and did not answer. The silence around the courtyard and the unwanted attention from all the remaining Dalton boys was not something the Warblers had ever experienced.

"Take one? Take two? Well, okay, then. I guess I will have to change my tactics." M started pacing, and with each step the boys turned more visibly pale. "See, I'm guessing Mr. Anderson came back because he has one of those very rare, and oh so very stupid, savior complexes. And, I'll even venture to guess, that at this very moment, he is watching us from somewhere on top this courtyard, keeping an eye on his friends."

M paced for a few more steps, did a sharp turn toward Dru, and said, "Now Dear Ms. D, would you kindly please bring me a boy?"

Dru seemed unsure of what M wanted, but complied nevertheless. She approached the stone bench and grabbed the closest boy sitting at the end.

When she tried to lift Flint up by the elbow, the boy's knees almost buckled in front of him. Dru raised the gun up to his forehead and commanded icily, "Move, or else I'll shoot both your knee caps and make you crawl over."

Flint slowly walked over to M, who is now standing in the center of the courtyard.

"Now, Mr. Wilson," M spoke softly after studying Flint for a while, recalling the details of his file. "Would you please do us a favor and call for Mr. Anderson to reveal himself to us?"

"What?" Flint looked at M incredulously.

"You heard me. Or, perhaps you need some incentive?"

M signaled to B, who promptly smacked Flint on face with his gun.

Flint screamed as he fell to the ground, his hands covering his throbbing face. The Warblers all rose to their feet, and Jeff and Nick started to approach, but Wes held everyone back.

"Now, Mr. Wilson. Please call to him."

"B…laine…." Flint squeaked as he remained curled up on the floor.

M nodded to B again and the latter laid a swift kick into Flint's ribs. Kurt flinched as Flint let out a hollow scream.

"You are not being very convincing to Mr. Anderson," M said. "Now try again, Mr. Wilson."

Flint was sobbing as he slowly crawled to his knees. He has never been hit by anything in his life, and the situation was overwhelming him. "Please, please don't hurt me anymore," Flint pleaded.

Ben rolled his eyes and reached down to grab Flint by his hair, "Such a little pussy…"

Ben was about to slam Flint's head down to the ground when Flint suddenly pushed Ben aside.

"No! Why? Why me?" Flint screamed, "Why are you doing this to me?" Flint was hysterical. The gun had cut his forehead and the blood pooled along his eyelids only accentuated his bewilderment and horror. Suddenly he raised his arm and pointed directly at the countertenor.

Kurt gasped and stumbled backwards as Flint's finger seemed to cut through the air and stabbed right into his soul.

"If you want Blaine to come out, then do it to him!"


	4. Four

**Chapter Four**

If you want Blaine to come, then do it to him.

Flint's declaration echoed in the Dalton courtyard as his audience - both students and aggressors alike - remained dumbfounded not only by its intent, but also by its overpowering sense of malice and spite.

Very few Dalton students were ignorant of the fact that Blaine Anderson was crazy about Kurt Hummel, particularly after the "Somewhere Only We Know" serenade in the McKinley schoolyard. The performance had been the gossip du jour in the Dalton social scene for quite some time. But despite witnessing the cruel treatment Flint suffered in the hands of the hostage takers, still even fewer could envision the pure bond between the two boys as something to be cheaply manipulated and used.

M's first clue was the light gasps heard rippling through the courtyard, followed by hushed utterances exchanged amongst students of various cohorts as all eyes convened on the focal point of Flint's transgressions.

M could feel Ben and Dru turning toward him for guidance, the pair not yet able to comprehend what had just transpired. But if M had any doubts, the fact that Wes and Jeff instinctively stepped in front of Kurt to shield him from the unwanted glares had certainly removed any uncertainties in his mind.

M spoke softly to Dru. "Please escort that boy to me. Oh, and D," M added, "Minimal force would be appreciated."

Dru was puzzled by the qualifier, but nevertheless tucked her gun behind her before she approached Wes and Jeff. She stood in front of the two boys who refused to step aside, and glanced back to M with a shrug, seeking permission to forcefully obtain her intended target.

"Wait," Kurt breathed as he gently pushed Wes and Jeff aside to stand before Dru. "Please, I don't want anyone to get hurt anymore."

Kurt began walking toward M, and Dru quickly followed.

This was the first time M had a proper look at Kurt Hummel. M had recognized Kurt from the files in the Headmaster's office: A recent transfer to Dalton Academy, from a middle class family, got good grades, but left Dalton just as swiftly as he had appeared. Why he was at Dalton this morning was irrelevant, because on paper, Kurt Hummel was an expendable. A nameless hostage. But as the countertenor finally stood in front of him, M realized how heavily he had misjudged.

The boy standing in front of him could be summed up by one word: Otherworldly. Delicate features, luminous skin, and deep, expressive eyes. What alarmed M, though, was that while the boy seemed irrevocably fragile, it exuded an alluring sense of incorruptible innocence. A combination ripe with seduction.

M was hesitant. There was no doubt that a boy like Kurt Hummel, a rose bud in bloom, can easily arouse the fieriest of passions in his suitor. But that suitor being Blaine Anderson, the son of a man he, though despised, had the utmost respect for. Was this a line he is willing to cross?

Already anticipating regret, M knew he had no choice. He had secretly felt a sense of relief when Blaine Anderson was nowhere to be found this morning. At least he wouldn't have to break his promise to an old friend. But now that the boy is within his grasp, he cannot pass on the opportunity. This was a matter of his survival.

M turned from Kurt, as if not willing to witness the consequence of his own decision. After he took a step away, he commanded Ben.

"Make the boy scream."

* * *

Blaine's heart was pumping so hard he thought he was going to vomit it out of his chest. He had successfully evaded the katana wielding man in white by cramming himself into the wall space behind the world map in Mr. Chase's history classroom. Mr. Chase is a notorious slush, and after the infamous alcohol poisoning incident last year, Blaine knew exactly where he hid his stash.

Blaine could hear Hiro sweeping through the classroom, followed by his abrupt departing having assumed the boy was a step ahead. Blaine let out a sigh of relief as he pushed aside the map and fell to the floor, fighting back tears. _I totally screwed up,_ Blaine cursed at himself. He had just exposed himself to the hostage takers, exposed his friends, and – Blaine pounded into the floor with his fist – exposed Kurt.

Blaine took out his phone, and thought about who he can call for help. His step-dad was on a business trip to New York, and his mom was on a spa retreat somewhere in the Swiss Alps. As if it mattered. The top speed dials on his phone were all his friends. Hell, even Burt was higher on the list than his parents.

Blaine noticed that he had an incoming message:

* * *

**From Trent:**

Where are you? Shit's hitting the fan. The guy the terrorists want released is some arms trafficker in Asia and is being extradited for war crimes. The Board said they can pay the cash but FBI said they don't negotiate with terrorists. They are just stalling now. We are all so worried that they are going to storm the school and turn this into a massacre.

* * *

Blaine looked at the message intensely. A massacre. No way in hell he is going to let that happen.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate. Wheels turning in his head, Blaine Anderson suddenly had a plan.

He opened the dialer page on his phone and started touching the numbers.

* * *

Back in the Dalton courtyard, the first person to make a sound was Drucilla. The woman in the catwoman mask showed genuine concern when she spoke, "M, are you sure you want Ben to keep going? The boy might die before he lets out a sound."

M still had his back turned against the show he had staged in the middle of the courtyard, but looking around, he took note of the growing anger and unrest amongst the Dalton boys. Jeff and Nick had already been wrestled to the ground by Big John because they immediately charged toward Ben when he took his first cut on Kurt Hummel. If eyes can kill, the rest of the Warblers would surely have burned all the hostage takers alive by now. What M feared, though, was that their anger and rage was slowly spreading to the rest of the study body. His team has no shortage of bullets, but if he loses control of the hostages, was he willing to risk a slaughter on his hands?

Ben turned cold when he sensed M's hesitation. The countertenor's persistent silence had turned this into a game, a game that he can't afford to lose.

When Ben was first asked to make the boy scream, he observed Kurt's feminine demeanor and assumed that it would be an easy task. If it was any other boy, thrusting the bone handle of his hunting blade into his victim's most private place would have been Ben's preferred method. It would have been quick, cruel, and effective. But as he studied the countertenor for the first time, he surprised himself by wanting to take it slow. _It would only be fitting,_ Ben thought as he decided how he was going to do the delicate and lithe body before him. It was going to be nice and slow, and painful.

Circling around the boy, Ben menacingly leaned toward Kurt and relished the boy's tremors as he licked his ear, "I'm going to give you a present, Beautiful. Something to always remember me by." Ben tackled the boy face down on to the ground and unsheathed the large knife from his ankle strap.

When Dru spoke, Ben was straddled on top of Kurt's back, one leg stilling the boy's writhing body and the other pinning Kurt's legs down on the floor. The boy's shirt had been pushed up against his shoulders, and muffled sobs and hiccups could be heard from the crumpled clothe as Kurt tried to stifle his cries.

Despite the badly shaken body beneath him and the looks of death he was getting from the rest of the Dalton students, Ben was actually serene. Like an expert craftsmen he went to work on his masterpiece. With the tip of his blade, he began carving elegant lines on the countertenor's back, slowly and meticulously. With each cut, beads of blood slowly bubbled up, glistening against the alabaster skin. Ben had to mentally restrain himself from leaning down to lick the maroon pearls and taste the boy beneath him. He forced himself to focus on his art. After all, Ben was determined to give the boy what he deserved: The most beautiful pair of blood red wings.

"Shhh," Ben cooed the he felt Kurt's body shook with each knife stroke. "You take it so well," he mused. "But I do think letting it out, instead of chewing on your own lip, will help with the pain." He could feel the boy was on the edge of breaking apart, and it was giving him the biggest hard-on.

Ben was almost done with his masterpiece when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hesitant M slowly approaching him. He was about to lose his canvas and he was running out of time. The boy's stubborn refusal to scream, though riveting at first, was now becoming a slap on his face. Ben had to up the ante.

Gently laying his hand on the countertenor's back, Ben slowly began to push his fingers into the cuts. Steadily, his fingers dug past the raised ridges of the cuts and into Kurt's warm, wet flesh.

"No…" Kurt whimpered when he felt Ben's hand on his back. The cuts had felt like forever. He wished that he would just faint and be rid of the nightmare, but each time the cold blade marked his skin the sharp pain would jolt him back into consciousness. He had bit into his clothes, then his lower lip, and even his shoulder as he struggled against crying aloud and playing into the hands of his captors. Every time Kurt wanted to just give up, the photograph of Blaine on the tablet of the captors would pop up in his mind. Kurt didn't know what they wanted from Blaine, but he wasn't going to take the chance. He just needed to buy enough time for Blaine to escape from this hell.

But when the torturer began to burrow his fingers into Kurt's flesh, the excruciating pain pushed Kurt beyond his limit. Kurt wanted to die. He just wanted everything to stop, to end.

Kurt screamed.


	5. Five

**Chapter Five**

The tearing of the flesh breached the flood-gate of silence and Kurt's heart-wrenching scream pierced through the thick air in the courtyard and echoed between Dalton's limestone walls. Shocked by the raw agony of the cry, Dru brought her hand up to her mouth to stifle her own gasp. Off on the side of the field, several freshmen clung desperately to Headmaster Sinclair, frightened and sobbing uncontrollably.

A low chuckle vibrated deep from Ben's chest. He had completed his masterpiece. He looked down at the clean and crisp lines he had carved onto the countertenor's back, and marveled at the deep red outline of a pair of angel wings that span from shoulder blade to waist. _But no marking of the prey is complete without a claiming,_ Ben thought to himself. This is the moment he lives for, the moment where his most primal urges are unleashed and unchecked. He tore off his binding mask to reveal the sharp features of a handsome young man, who, if not for the madness of his acts, can easily be mistaken as the boy next door. Ben reached down to grab Kurt by the hair, and with a rough tug, lifted the boy's head from the ground to face his own. The boy was just as beautiful as Ben anticipated – flushed cheeks stained with tears, lips tinted red by smeared blood.

If not for the soft early-noon sun obliviously framing the devil before him, Kurt would have sworn he has been cast into purgatory. He looked up and saw a pair of the most bloodthirsty, haunting blue eyes. But the light quickly disappeared and Kurt's entire body tensed in horror as Ben leaned down and brutally claimed Kurt's mouth. Kurt could only whimper in pain as Ben forced him to arch his back upward so to deepen the kiss.

The entire courtyard froze in terror at the alien but startling intimate gesture. Even M was taken aback by the monstrosity that had transpired before him.

For a second it seemed like the devil was about to swallow the boy whole.

Everyone heard the angry roar before they actually saw the first contact. A fist-sized rock shot through the air and struck the side of Ben's head, knocking him sideways and loosened his grip on Kurt. The boy fell back onto the ground as Ben struggled to balance himself. Then within a split second Blaine had closed the distance from where he threw the rock and body slammed into Ben, knocking the latter onto the ground next to Kurt's limp body.

The loud bang of bodies crashing together was quickly followed by sharp thuds as Blaine took advantage of the element of surprise and climbed on top of the assailant. Blaine started pounding his fists into the face in front of him. Growling in anger with each punch and seeing red, the boy wanted to flatten the head below his hands and was not planning to stop until it happens.

Dru was just about to draw her gun and approach the brawl when M laid his hand on her arm.

"Which one are you planning to help, Drucilla?" M asked.

Dru hesitated and realized that she couldn't answer. So she kept watching.

But Blaine's advance was short lived. Years of training kicked in, and Ben was able to seize a gap between the punches and land a rib jab to the lighter boy on top. It effectively knocked Blaine off and Ben quickly followed with a stump kick to Blaine's abdomen, throwing the boy into the air followed by a hard landing on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

Ben jumped to his feet and reached for his hunting knife that fell from his hand when he was tackled. Gripping tightly on the bone handle, he pounced toward Blaine like a panther to its prey, preparing to bury the blade into the heaving chest of his opponent.

Blaine could see the white blade as the shadow leaped on top of him. He wanted to roll out of the way, but with his lungs burning, he could only instinctively bring his arms up to shield his face. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain, or maybe even oblivion, when the cold blade enters his body.

But nothing.

When Blaine opened his eyes, the shadow was gone. He looked down on his chest incredulously, not sure if the lack of a stabbing pain was due to his spirit having already left his body.

Yet no one was more shocked than Ben himself, when, in midair, he felt like he rammed into a rock when his body was suddenly grabbed from behind and restrained through a choke grip that lifted him off the ground.

There is only one person with the strength and height to stop Ben like that: Big John.

At 6'5" and built like a professional wrestler, John easily lifted Ben off the ground by tightening one arm around his neck, and with the other, gripped Ben's wrist to still the blade. Blackness began to close in on Ben's vision as John pressed into his windpipe.

"John, you can let him go now," M stepped in to stabilize the situation. "Thank you for keeping him in line. Now put him down, please."

Without ever saying a word, John dropped Ben to the ground and retreated to courtyard side.

Paying no attention to the commotion surrounding Ben, Blaine had dashed over to Kurt's side the minute he realized he was still alive. Choking back tears of remorse, he slowly lowered Kurt's shirt to cover the cuts on his back – he'll tend to them later. Not daring to move Kurt given his mangled back, he laid down and molded his body alongside Kurt's and slowly stroked the countertenor's face, gently brushing away the dirt and tears.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry," Blaine whispered, touching his forehead to Kurt's. "This was all my fault… It must hurt so much…"

Blaine wanted to lean forward for a kiss, but was afraid any movement might augment Kurt's pain.

"Don't worry, I can't feel anything anymore," Kurt whispered back, laboring to give Blaine a smile. "I thought I'd never see you again, Blaine."

When Blaine first saw Ben cutting into Kurt's back, he had felt like they were being carved onto his heart. He didn't think it could hurt even more, not until he saw Kurt trying to comfort him through his own pain. Blaine finally let the tears fall on his face.

Noticing that John was no longer guarding the Warblers, Wes immediately rushed to Blaine and Kurt's aid, with the rest of the Warblers close on his heels.

"Kurt, this may hurt a bit, okay? I just want to lift up your shirt to see how bad it is," Wes knelt down beside Kurt as Blaine got up on his knees. Wes and Blaine shared an understated look as Wes nodded to welcome Blaine back on the team.

"Nick, what do you think?" Wes nudged Nick to take a closer look at Kurt's back. Nick volunteers as a lifeguard every summer – to pick up chicks and show off his abs, as he would say – but it still meant he had the most first-aid training.

"The cuts are shallow," Nick said, studying the wound. "There are a few spots that may need stitching but a sealant with a butterfly gauze would work as well. But they need to be disinfected right away or Kurt may get an infection."

"We should probably get Kurt some pain meds as well," Dave added.

"I'd call that the understatement of the century," Kurt muttered under his breath, drawing a laugh from his peers who are relieved to hear Kurt's old self shining through.

Blaine stood up and squared his shoulders straight at M, with Wes and Jeff by his side.

M signaled for Dru to perform a pat-down on Blaine to secure any personal items, and Dru brought Blaine's wallet and phone to M, which he quickly inspected and put in his coat pocket.

"I presume you are the leader?" Blaine said pointedly to M.

"You presume correct," M responded, taking a hard look at Blaine Anderson for the very first time. Obviously the boy would not recognize him. The last time they met, Blaine was but a restless toddler, trying to climb on top of his father's head from the shoulder. Tempus fugit, M silently sighed. They were all young once, thinking they can change the world. But now the toddler has grown into a charismatic and vibrant young man, and he, just an old hand trying desperately to extend what little time he has left.

Not aware of the nostalgia going through M's mind, Blaine stared back. There were so many things he could say at the moment, whether it be chastising the man for hurting a defenseless boy, or insulting him for his motley crew of a hostage squad. But Kurt was his priority right now, and he has no time to waste.

"You will let me take my boyfriend to the infirmary. I believe he's gone through quite enough today." Blaine's words were unquestionable. He knew he was in no position to bargain, but devil be damned, he was going to get Kurt to the nurse's office or else.

M raised an eyebrow to the brazen demand. If any other hostage had dared to speak to him in that manner, he would certain have made an example out of him. But the look of confidence and determination displayed by the boy before him reminded him so much of his old friend, that rather than being incensed, M caught himself smiling approvingly. _Our conversation can wait,_ M thought. _The day is still long._

* * *

By the time Kurt had his wounds cleaned and dressed, and brushed his teeth thrice to Blaine's delight, the Warblers have relocated to the Salisbury Study. It was the only room in the Salisbury Commons that contained long couches where Kurt can rest comfortably. Blaine had insisted upon it. Wes was pleasantly surprised at how accommodating the hostage takers have been. While the room can be monitored by Dru and an ever nasty Ben in the hallway, it did allow the Warblers to converse without being overheard. But then again, Wes thought to himself, given how fussy and overprotective Blaine had been during their trip to the infirmary, maybe this was the hostage takers' way of preventing themselves from strangling the smitten boy.

When Dru was sent in the Salisbury study to fetch Blaine, she certainly wasn't prepared for the overwhelming display of affection between the two lovebirds. Blaine was leaning against the armrest of the maroon leather couch, holding a sleeping Kurt against him, careful to position the boy's back away from any physical contact. Kurt's head was resting in the curve of Blaine's neck, allowing the latter to sooth the slumbering boy by gently stroking his flaxen hair.

Dru looked over to the rest of the Warblers lounging around the study, hoping for any signs of admonition. But months of watching Blaine serenade Kurt in every single song have immunized the group against the saccharine display.

"Ahem," Dru had to announce herself to the room. Blaine grudgingly opened his eyes, brows furrowed in displeasure.

"M wants to speak with you," Dru said.

Blaine nodded, and slowly shifted his body out from under Kurt. The boy moaned at the lost of his body pillow, but the heavy pain medication kept the boy under. The rest of the Warblers rose to their feet, unsure about letting their friend meet the leader of the assailants alone.

Jeff was closest to Blaine, and the boys briefly gripped each other's arm like a handshake as Blaine followed Dru out of the room.

"I'll be okay," Blaine assured his friends. Blaine looked over to Kurt.

"We'll keep an eye on him." Jeff assured back.

Blaine really had no intentions of getting caught by the hostage takers. He also hadn't intended on Kurt getting hurt on his behalf, nor had he intended on having a man-to-man chat with a criminal mastermind. Then again, Blaine hadn't intended on a lot of things today.

As he sat in Headmaster Sinclair's office, he realized that he was alone. The katana man exited the room, followed by the lady in the leather cat-suit. It was just him and the leader behind the mahogany desk.

As M continued to study Blaine in silence, Blaine was getting more nervous as each second clicked by. _Does he know about the deal I made?_ Blaine thought to himself, wondering how he would respond if he was exposed. _But how could he know that…_

"You look more like your mother, but you have your father's jaw," M's voice was distant. "I can see the resemblance."

Blaine had to do a mental double-take to comprehend that loaded statement.

"My dad is not my biological father…" Blaine corrected, wanting to make sure.

"Which explains why you have been off the radar all these years. Nobody was looking for a Blaine Anderson," M shook his head. "Not that anyone was looking, mind you. We knew family was off limits. No one wanted to take that chance."

Blaine was stunned. The man who had condoned the torturing of his boyfriend was now speaking to him affectionately about his father, the father whose face has always been but a shadow ever present in Blaine's life, the father who his mother has always refused to talk about.

"Did you know him, my father?" Blaine asked.

The question elicited a laugh from M, "Oh do I!" But as fond memories were quickly replaced by more upsetting experiences, the chief reason for his being here today, M's face dropped.

"Your father had something that belongs to me," M said sternly. "Something I need."

"I thought it was lost forever," M continued. "Until I was able to trace it to a safe deposit box in Geneva a few months ago, only to find out that just days before, it had been emptied out by a Mr. Blaine Anderson of Westerville, Ohio. Imagine my surprise when I looked you up and realized that this Blaine Anderson, you, is an 18-year old boy bearing a likeness of my dear old friend."

"Oh, he was always so clever," M chuckled. "The most clever of our lot. But did he really think I would back off simply because of an oath we took back in the day when loyalty and honor still mattered?"

M looked hard at Blaine, eyes weary and spiteful, "What good are loyalty and honor to a withering old man, when each day draws me closer to my last?"

M circled the desk and grabbed Blaine by the collar with both hands, dragging the boy to his feet: "Oh if only he can see me now, his precious child within my grasp. I can crush you like a vermin as I would your snake of a father!"

Visibly agitated, M began shaking Blaine, "Where is the content of that box? Where? Where is it?" He gritted through his clutched teeth. "Give me the map or so help me I will skin you alive."

Blaine was startled by the man's sudden change of mannerism from mild to bestial, "Look, I don't know what you are talking about. What map?"

"Do you think I am in the mood for games, boy?" M threw Blaine on the floor and pulled out a pistol from his side. "Do you think I would hesitate to kill you? Or," M paused. "Better yet, your precious little boyfriend?"

"Tell me where the map is, now," M threatened. "Or I'll go down there right now and put a bullet in Kurt Hummel's head."

Blaine has had enough. At first he had wanted the man to tell him everything about his father, fill in all the gaps and holes in what little memory he had of the man. But what he just said was the last straw and Blaine would not spare him the time of day even if he begged.

"Listen closely you horrible man," Blaine stood up and looked back undaunted. "My father left me a stack of papers in a leather binder. Maybe the map is in there, I don't know. I've never looked. The journal is in my room right now, you can go fetch it yourself."

Paying no attention to the burning glare behind him, Blaine turned to walk out of the room. Let him shoot me in the back like a coward, Blaine thought. As he opened the door, he looked back at the man, shaking on the brink of madness, "And if you ever threaten me or anyone I love again, I swear to god I will end you."

Blaine slammed the door behind him.

* * *

When Blaine returned to the Salisbury study, Kurt was already awake.

The countertenor rushed up to Blaine and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, "Oh Blaine, I was so worried when Wes told me they took you. Are you alright?"

Blaine's silence not only alarmed Kurt, but the rest of his friends as well. Kurt took Blaine by the hand and drew him to the couch, where Blaine recounted what had just happened in the Headmaster's office.

"Where do you think this map leads?" Dave asked, after hearing Blaine.

"Was your dad a treasure hunter? Like Nicolas Cage in those movies?" Jeff interjected.

"No, you mean like Indiana Jones. Can't you see Blaine in a fedora?" From Nick.

"Guys, order, please," Wes knocked on the coffee table with his knuckles. _Boy I really miss my gavel right now,_ Wes thought. "As head of the Warbler council, I believe I should have the right of first inquiry. Blaine, so you haven't looked through those papers yourself? You don't know anything about this map?"

"Okay, what is this, the Spanish Inquisition?" Kurt raised his palm to shut up the Warblers.

"Geez, you guys are like soccer moms at a Black Friday sale. Can' you see how hard this is for Blaine? Back off!" Kurt scolded.

"Sorry," Jeff and Nick mumbled.

"No, guys, seriously, I'm okay." Blaine buried his face in his palms. "I just can't believe how naive I've been all my life, thinking that my father was just some rich businessman who left me this enormous trust fund. All of a sudden I find out that I have no idea who he really was. Where did all his money come from? Was he a criminal? Worse, part of the reason these guys have taken over the school and put you guys in danger was because of me? I mean, I'm the reason you guys are in this terrible life and death situation! Kurt, you got hurt because of me. It's all my fault!"

"Hush," Kurt wrapped his arms around the agonizing boy. "You couldn't have known this, you couldn't have predicted this. If it's anybody's fault, it's those criminals. They come in here, breaking the law, hurting people…"

Sensing Kurt's shudder, Blaine leaned his head against Kurt's shoulder, returning the warmth and comfort as the two boys clung to each other.

"Ahm," Wes coughed lightly to get everyone's attention. "Blaine, there is absolutely no need to beat yourself up for anything. Kurt is right, this is a crazy situation but you didn't put us here. These hostage takers did. Let's just hope the police will meet their demands soon so they can get the hell out of here. I know they are ruthless, but they don't seem to be the type that would pull a kamikaze stunt and blow everyone up."

"Yeah," Jeff agreed. "Once they get whatever they want, they should just leave, right? I mean, you already gave them the map…"

"I hope you are right," Dave joined in. "I mean, with that remote detonation device, technically, even if they are far away from here, they can still activate the bomb. And who knows what else may trigger the explosives. To be honest, as long as we are on the grounds, I don't think anyone is safe."

"So not helping…" Nick snorted.

"I don't mean to add fuel to the fire," Blaine lowered his voice, looking outside the study to make sure those standing guard in the hallway couldn't hear. "But Trent told me that the Feds have no intention of releasing that person they demanded, some war criminal. So far it sounds like the people here haven't been made aware of that yet."

"Wait, what is this?" Jeff asked, "Who is this war criminal?"

"I don't know. Trend said that he was some big arms trafficker from Asia who is about to be extradited for some war crimes trial," Blaine tried to recall.

"Are you guys talking about Akira Matsumoto? The yakuza crime boss turned biggest crime boss in Asia?" Wes asked. He palmed his forehead. "That's why that guy with the sword looked familiar; I must have seen him in the papers during the trial."

The boys all turned toward Wes, looking for an explanation.

"Remember that time I was pulled out of Dalton for a week? That was because my dad was the presiding judge on the trial that convicted Akira Matsumoto in the United States. The U.S. Marshals thought his gang might try to do something crazy like kidnap me to blackmail my father into throwing the trial, that's why they pulled me out of school for protection. The trial was just a few weeks ago. The conviction essentially paved way for a war-crime tribunal to be established and he is to be extradited and tried there for some crazy stuff he's done in South Asia." Wes rubbed his forehead. "God my dad must be worried sick right now."

Dave and Jeff patted Wes on the shoulder to give him support.

"This is not good," Nick said. "If they think they are going to get this Akira guy, Wes is safe. But what will happen if they find out that the Feds are not going to cooperate? What is going to happen to Wes?"

The Warblers looked at each other, the dread slowly sinking into their minds. The situation was about to spin out of control, and there seemed to be no way out.

Blaine looked at his friends. The Warblers do not despair. If their countless pranks had taught them anything, it's that there is always a way out. The day hadn't turned out as he expected, but so what? They can improvise.

Blaine's body language shifted as he straightened his back, slowly regaining his old self.

"When I was hiding in Dexter Hall, before I got caught, I called the Feds," Blaine's voice was low, but his confidence was unwavering. "I had the police patch me through to the FBI agent in charge of this hostage situation, and I proposed a plan. I mean, it's a long shot, but it's a plan. Anyways, I don't know why but he agreed that he'd give me a chance to execute the plan before letting the S.W.A.T. team enter the school. I don't know if this will work, guys, but if it works out, we should be able to diffuse the bombs."

Blaine looked at each of his friends, hazel eyes illuminated by conviction and resolve. "I won't be able to do this alone, but together, we can do it."


	6. Six

**Chapter Six**

The early summer breeze gently swept through the Salisbury Library as the Warblers huddled in hushed discussion around Blaine. If it weren't for the occasional glance at the kidnappers at the far end of the hallway, it would have seemed like any other afternoon in Dalton Academy.

"So, what is this plan you speak of?" Wes asked, studying Blaine cautiously.

"Fellow Warblers," Blaine had to resist the urge to stand up and address the group as he typically would. "May I bring your attention to a prank we executed earlier this year, the prank titled Operation War of the Worlds?"

"Ha!" Nick broke out in laughter but quickly clasped a hand over his mouth. "Of course, that was epic. It's going to go down in Dalton history as one of the best pranks of all time. We are legends. Legends."

"Oh, yeah," Jeff joined in, percolated with excitement. "Do you remember Mr. Guthrie running into the cafeteria yelling at all of us to sew our belly-buttons together so the aliens won't eviscerate us after they take over the planet? And then when little Billy Boyd raised his hand and asked what if he's an outie? I laughed so hard people thought I was bawling my eyes out!"

Even Wes beamed as he shook his head in wonderment, "I still can't believe how well that prank worked out. We actually got the whole school to believe that aliens are taking over the world and are going to enslave humanity and steal our water. The panic and mayhem that ensued was definitely epic."

"Okay, slow down boys," Kurt cocked his chin to signal his dismay. "Is someone going to explain to me what the hell you guys are talking about?"

"Okay, back in the beginning of the school year, we decided to pull a prank on the school that essentially mirrored the Orson Welles radio show, you know, the one where he accidentally duped his listeners into believing that Martians invaded Earth?" Nick was practically jumping out of his seat as he recounted the incident. "During lunch time, we rigged the school PA system to make this announcement that aliens have invaded earth and are going to systematically wipe out the human race while exploiting our natural resources. Oh man, you should have seen everyone's faces when they thought they were all going to be killed by death-ray!"

"But," Kurt couldn't believe that such a silly idea could be taken so seriously by the school. "Wouldn't people just call their friends, or check the internet, and figure out that it was a hoax?"

"See, that is the genius of the plan," Nick explained. "Dave here is a wiz at technical gadgets, and he built this modified RF jammer that essentially… oh wait, I'll let Dave tell you." Nick grabbed Dave's shoulders like a little boy showing of his shiny new toy.

"Ugh, yeah," Dave was a little taken aback by the attention. "Well, the RF jammer disrupted all two way wireless communication, so none of the phones could call out, or even get on the internet. The same for laptops and any other wireless devices – "

"Then we just shut off the power to the buildings," Nick interjected. "And voila! End of the world as we know it! When your cell phone stops working, then you know the end is near!"

"But the jammer has a short range," Dave clarified. "So honestly if anyone had the balls to venture off campus they would have totally figured out it was a hoax."

Kurt furrowed his brows as he began to connect the dots in his head, "So you guys have a device that can disable cell-phones? Would that work here, with these terrorists?"

The boys stared at Kurt as Blaine nodded with pride, giving everyone a proud that's-my-man look.

"Oh my god," Nick stuttered. "That is a brilliant idea! If we can eliminate the bombs from the equation, then that would considerably lower their leverage over the situation."

"But that's the problem, isn't it?" Wes was ever the voice of reason. "The fact of the matter is, we don't have that device right now. It's probably in – "

"The surplus locker," Blaine interrupted. "It's there along with all the other contrabands confiscated by Sinclair. I remember seeing it last time Kurt and I were in there."

"Ugh," Jeff was confused. "What were you and Kurt doing in the surplus locker?"

The fact that both Blaine and Kurt turned into a bright shade of red was enough of a clue to their peers.

"Wow," Jeff mused. "You guys have quickies in the surplus locker? You're the man, Blaine!" Jeff tried to high-five Blaine but quickly dropped his hand after a dirty look from Kurt.

"Ahem," Wes coughed, diplomatically drawing the attention away from the boys. "That is great, so we know where it is, but that doesn't change my point. We still don't have it."

"We'll have to find a way to get it," Blaine looked Wes straight in the eye. "That's what I meant when I said we need to figure this out together."

"Okay, fine," Wes continued the thought process. "So let's say, hypothetically, that we have the RF jammer. Then what? Do we just switch it on and then pray that all those thugs will drop dead so we can walk out of here?"

"No, when I spoke with the Special Agent in Charge, he told me that the moment of execution will be 3 a.m." Blaine laid out the full plan. "When we talked we didn't know how the terrorists would activate the bomb. So our agreement was just that he would give me time to deactivate it before letting the S.W.A.T. team storm the school. They are coming in at 3 a.m. whether the bombs are switched off or not. Then Kurt told me about the leader and his cell phone. So if we can activate the RF jammer by 3 a.m., then they will enter the school and take out all the terrorists without risking us all getting blown up."

The Warblers sat in silence as they slowly processed the proposed plan, coming to terms with the gravity of their mission and the possibility of a S.W.A.T. team storming the siege and ending in a massacre.

Jeff raised his head and was about to speak when a light knock startled the entire group. Nick nearly jumped three feet in the air.

The boys whipped their heads around to find Flint standing by the wooden door of the library, anxiously looking down on his shifting feet.

"What are you doing here, Flint?" Jeff hissed.

"Look," Flint bowed his head, the red bruise from the pistol whip visible by the side of his face. "I just want to come and apologize to Kurt."

Flint gingerly walked into the library, twitching uncomfortably at the angry glare of the Warblers.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't know that would happen to you."

"It's okay," Kurt stood up and approached Flint, stopping a few feet before the larger boy. "It's okay, Flint. The cuts are pretty shallow and they don't even hurt anymore. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"Hm," Jeff and Nick snorted, and continued to give Flint looks of disgust.

"Look, Kurt," Flint shifted his eyes. "Is there anything you want me to tell your parents? They are letting some of us go. I'll make sure they get the message."

"What?" The rest of the Warblers cried in unison as they rose from their seats.

"What do you mean they are letting some people go?" Wes asked.

"My mother made a deal with the terrorists; at least that's what that lady in the mask told me." Flint explained. "Apparently the school board is delivering $20 million in cash to them right now, and wanted them to release 10 of us as a sign of good faith. The terrorists already picked out the students they would release, mostly those coming from poor families. But my mother demanded my release so they are letting me go, too."

Flint looked out the hallway and into the courtyard, where a few students were lined up by the archway that leads to the front gate.

The Warblers stood in bitter silence.

"Ugh," Flint started again, feeling guilty that he would soon taste coveted freedom. "I heard them say that the Feds have promised to bring them the prisoner first thing tomorrow morning, along with the rest of the ransom money. Once they have everything they came for, they will surely release all of you guys."

"If you really believe they are going to let us all go," Wes said coldly. "Then you are a bigger fool than I thought."

Flint bowed his head and turned away, then walked out to the courtyard when Dru signaled for him.

Blaine stood by Wes as the head of the Warbler council watched Flint join the nine other students who were about to be let go.

"They are not going to deliver Akira Matsumoto, are they," Wes stated calmly.

"No," Blaine continued to look ahead. "It's just a stall tactic. That's why this will all end at 3 a.m."

"Very well then," Wes nodded. "Let's figure out a way to get that RF jammer."

* * *

"I still think this is the worst idea ever," Blaine Anderson has never been so angry at Kurt in his life. He couldn't believe that he now has to put the one person he came back to protect in imminent danger. He knew his boyfriend was stubborn, and he loves his boyfriend's strong will. But Blaine was loathing that quality at the moment.

"Kurt, please don't do this," Blaine pleaded again as Kurt began to strip off his shirt.

"Blaine," Kurt continued to strip down to his underwear. "You know I am the best man for the job. I will be okay, I promise."

Blaine's nightmare started after supper, hours after Flint had left along with the other chosen students. M has been nowhere in sight, probably off going through the journals line by line, and the assailants have become more relaxed after the delivery of the $20 million. The boys were allowed open access to the Salisbury Commons and the courtyard, with the exception that a roll-call would be conducted every hour on the dot.

After a long and tedious brainstorming session, the Warblers finally came up with the best plan to obtain the RF jammer. Having been built on the wetlands of the Westerville tributes, in the past Dalton Academy was a frequent victim of floods during the raining seasons. To counter this problem, in the '50s, the Board completed an overhaul and constructed a water-management system below the Dalton foundations, essentially to redirect excessive water buildup out to the Westerville River. More recently, modernization projects have expanded the infrastructure to include a water reservoir for harvesting rainwater and making the school a "Green School of the Future". The reservoir can be accessed from various wells in Dalton's lower levels.

So the plan was simple: Sneak into the cellar from the courtyard, dive into the reservoir to swim to the surplus locker building, and bring back the RF jammer. Given the close proximity of the buildings, the operation should take no more than an hour, allowing the boys to return for roll-call. At least that was the logistical part.

The difficulty, though, is that the person would have to dive in the reservoir without an oxygen tank.

Blaine has never hated any ideas of the Warblers more.

Kurt had insisted on taking the task of diving through the reservoir to get the RF jammer. "If I had stayed in Dalton next year," Kurt stated bluntly. "I would make captain on the swim team. I have the best lung capacity of anyone here, because of my voice training since I was a kid. Therefore, I have the best chance of diving from the cellar to the supply locker in one breath."

Blaine fought tooth-and-nail to take over the job himself. But Kurt was adamant, and Wes relented. Everyone wanted the best man for the job, and Kurt insisted that the cuts on his back would have no impact on his ability to perform the task.

Just as the sun began to fall behind the west campus skyline, Blaine, Jeff, and Kurt made their way to the courtyard, taking advantage of impeded visibility at the time of dusk. Making sure none of the hostage takers took notice, the boys snuck behind the stone bench in the courtyard and slid into the cellar.

Blaine handed a waterproof flashlight to Kurt as the boy stood in his underwear next to the ground well.

"Hold the flashlight in your mouth," Blaine instructed, "So you can have both of your hands. Just swim along the wall of the reservoir and you will come to an aluminum ladder on your right side. That first opening should lead you directly to the surplus locker."

Kurt nodded, the dim yellow light of the cellar made him look small and frail.

Blaine looked deep into Kurt's darkened eyes, and opened his mouth again to plead with his boyfriend. But before he could speak, Kurt raised a finger and lightly pressed on Blaine's lips.

"I know," Kurt looked intently into his lover's eyes. "But you need to let me do this. You need to trust me."

Blaine nodded, lost in the eyes that shinned so brightly of courage.

Kurt reached behind Blaine's head with one hand and brought their lips together in a fiery kiss. Blaine was a little startled given Kurt has never initiated an act of affection with such passion, but he quickly returned the kiss in matching desire.

"I love you," Kurt's whisper echoed in the stilled room. Blaine shut his eyes hard as he felt Kurt slowly slipped out of his embrace.

Kurt walked to the edge of the well, where Jeff had lifted up the iron cover. Jeff grabbed Kurt by his arms and slowly lowered him into the water.

The water was ice cold, and against Kurt's skin, they felt like boiling water, sending shocks instantly to his heart. Kurt had to consciously regulate his breathing to adjust his body to the sudden change in temperature. After Jeff dropped him into the water, Kurt took a deep breath and allowed himself to submerge into the pool of darkness.

* * *

Kurt had to strain to keep biting down on to the flashlight between his shivering teeth. The cold, icy water felt like a million pins and needles piercing through his skin, and the dark emptiness surrounding him was threatening to consume his sanity. Kurt has never been so scared and alone in his life. He knew if he turned back to that spot of light where Blaine and Jeff were waiting, he can be out of the water in no time. But he had to keep moving. He only had one breath of air, so he needed to move fast.

Counting in his head to help suppress the air in his lungs, Kurt silently timed his breath as he swam alongside the wall of the aluminum reservoir. He was going to hold his breath as long as he can, and then slowly exhale when he is more than halfway to his destination. Kurt knew he can do this, and he needed to do it. Having been a part of the football team and the Cheerios, Kurt is no stranger to pushing his body to the limit. Being in his element, despite the challenge, was giving him back the control he had craved for since all the craziness started.

* * *

"It's been 30 minutes," Nick looked at his watch as he stood nervously next to Wes and Dave in the courtyard, pretending to be pacing out of boredom. "Roll call is going to be in 15. What if they don't make it back in time?"

Wes looked in the direction of the cellar door; a thin layer of sweat could be seen gleaming on his forehead. "I think we need to come up with our own stall tactic."

* * *

"Blaine," Jeff checked his watch, his concern displayed visibly in his frown. "It's been too long. Kurt should be back by now."

Blaine was kneeling by the pool of black water, waiting to draw Kurt's pearl white form out of the void. "Damn it," Blaine pounded his fist on the floor, "I should never have let him go in the first place." Blaine stood up and started peeling of his cloths, getting ready to dive into the reservoir after Kurt.

"Wait!" Jeff screamed as he leaned down into the hold in the ground. "He's back!"

Blaine leaned into the edge of the well as an alabaster arm slowly emerged from the tar-like pool holding up a brick-sized device wrapped in plastic sheets.

Something's not right. Blaine couldn't see much in the dim light, but the way Kurt's arm was shaking in the water just didn't look normal.

Kurt's face slowly broke through the water surface, and Blaine sucked in a hard breath as he saw the deep blue lips.

"Oh shit!" Jeff grabbed the RF Jammer, but before he could grab a hold of Kurt's hand, the boy fell backwards and was consumed by the dark pit as if something had pulled him under.

Within a split second Blaine dived into the water after Kurt.

"Blaine! Kurt!" Jeff laid down flat on the edge of the well and stuck his hand into the water. "Fuck!"

The only thing Jeff could see was total blackness.

Shortly after, Blaine emerged from the water holding an unconscious Kurt close against his chest.

"Jeff! Grab him!" Blaine lifted Kurt's body out of the water, the weight pulling him under as he tread to stay afloat.

"Got him!" Jeff quickly grabbed both of Kurt's arms and hoisted the unresponsive boy out of the pit. Jeff quickly laid Kurt's limp body on the floor as Blaine climbed out of the well and knelt next to Kurt.

"Kurt, Kurt, come back to me," Blaine chanted as he patted Kurt's face hoping to jolt the boy awake.

"I don't think he's breathing," Jeff knelt on the other side of Kurt, shaking the boy's arms and shoulders.

Without hesitation, Blaine tilted Kurt's head backwards and took two quick blows into Kurt's mouth, then moved to compress Kurt's chest. "Come on, Kurt, breath. Breath," Blaine said as he continued to administer CPR on Kurt's limp body.

"Oh my god," Jeff's voice was shaking with panic. "Oh my god…"

"Kurt, can you hear me?" Blaine continued the CPR steps, but he could hardly see anything through the blurriness as his eyes swelled up with tears.

"Kurt, I love you," Blaine choked as he pressed on Kurt's chest. "Please come back to me." Blaine's heart was beginning to crack into a million pieces.

In what seemed like a million years, a small whimper finally emanated from deep inside Kurt's throat, and, while barely audible, Blaine and Jeff thought it was like an angel singing.

"Kurt!" Blaine scooped the boy up to sit upright flush against his own body, trying to help the boy to breath.

Kurt began to cough violently, his whole body convulsing at the force of the contractions. Blaine patted Kurt on his back, soothing him as he coughed the excess water out of his lungs. But as Blaine's entire being rejoiced at having a conscious Kurt back in his arms, Blaine noticed something more alarming. Not only were Kurt's lips blue, but the bluish-purple bruise had spread to his fingertips. Kurt's whole body was shaking, and his fingers were taught and trembling in the most unnatural way.

"Damn it," Blaine started to hoist Kurt up. "Kurt has hypothermia. We need to get him back to the library right now."

* * *

"Nick, old boy, you can totally do this," Wes patted Nick on the shoulder as the three boys stared into the common room in Salisbury.

"Tell me again why I have to do this?" Nick seriously contemplated taking off down the hall to escape his mission.

"Because this needs to look real, and you are the only one with an actual allergy. They won't suspect foul play if you are the one that goes down." Wes explained, nudging Nick forward.

"See it as practicing your acting chops," Dave chimed in. "Didn't you once faked a drowning to pick up some girl on the beach?"

"Go get them tiger," Wes massaged Nick's shoulders like a coach to his prized fighter before a boxing match.

"Yeah, I can do this," Nick cracked his head from left to right, then did a couple of jumps standing in place as he shook off his shoulders and arms. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

"What's that noise?" It was Dru and John's turn to watch the students, and they could hear the boys shouting from the common room all the way out to where they were in the hall. When they entered into the room, they saw Nick lying on the floor, with all the Dalton boys circling around him.

"Get out of my way," Dru pushed some boys aside to approach the body on the floor. Nick was clutching his throat looking like he was suffocating and convulsing at the same time. "What the hell is going on here?"

"That's Nick Duval," Headmaster Sinclair said as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a folded handkerchief. "He has a severe peanut allergy. If we don't get him to a hospital immediately he might die."

"Oh hell no," Dru poked at Nick's stomach with her stiletto heels, "Nobody is going anywhere."

Just then, Nick started moaning loudly while clutching to his neck, kicking his legs like a dying rat.

"Is that what a severe allergic attack looks like?" Dave whispered in Wes' ear. "It looks like a cross between a child's tantrum and some kind of kinky porn video…"

"How the hell would I know?" Wes shook his head at Nick's abominable acting chops. "Wait, when did you watch porn?"

Just before Wes was about to make some impassioned speech and save the day as previously planned, John reached into the pocket of his pant leg and handed Dru a large, scary looking syringe. "Adrenaline shot," John said tersely. "It'll stop the reaction."

"Where am I supposed to inject this?" Dru eyed the large syringe with a rusty needle, hoping she won't have to play nurse and pull down the boy's pants.

"Directly into the heart or the outer thigh." Jon had no expression on his face.

Nick's eyes widened as he saw the unearthly syringe looming over him and real panic began to overtake his body. "Ugh, what?" He choked out, hands still encircling his throat.

As Dru fisted the syringe in her hand and got ready to pound the syringe straight into Nick's chest, Nick bolted off the ground and screamed "No! Not the heart!"

Dru eyed him curiously. Noticing the woman's suspicion, Nick immediately collapsed on the floor again, this time clutching his chest. "I, I have a heart condition! A heart defect, yes. You can't inject me in the heart."

"Fine," Dru wasted no time and slammed the syringe onto Nick's thigh.

"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!" The glass windows of the Salisbury Common vibrated at Nick's high-pitched wail, while little critters in the courtyard all dove for cover.

* * *

"What the hell was that sound?" Jeff looked in the direction of the commons as the three boys ran across the courtyard toward the library.

"Just keep moving," Blaine hissed, a little angry that it was Jeff who ended up bending the unconscious boy's body over his shoulder to carry him out of the cellar. Blaine had staggered under Kurt's weight and had to reluctantly allow Jeff do the heavy lifting. Blaine made a mental note to hit the bench-press after this ordeal.

"God I totally thought we were going to get caught," Jeff said as he placed Kurt on the floor of the library. "I can't believe there wasn't a single person in the courtyard."

"Here, Kurt, drink this," Blaine grabbed a cup of hot water from the coffee table and tried to make Kurt drink from the cup. But Kurt was shaking so bad that the water kept rolling off his lips and dripping down his chin.

"Damn it," Blaine cursed.

In an act of desperation, Blaine sat down next to Kurt and lifted the boy up against his chest so that Kurt's head rested on his shoulders. Blaine then took a gulp of the hot water and fed the water slowly to his boyfriend using his own mouth. Kurt's cold lips responded to the soft touch of the lips, and the countertenor slowly began to swallow the hot liquid.

Meanwhile, Jeff had located two blankets from the closet and draped them over Kurt's bare shoulders and started to rub his arms to dry him off.

How long does it take to drink a sip of water? Jeff tried to hide his blushing as Blaine and Kurt continued to lock their lips together.

Kurt's light cough broke the tender moment and brought Blaine's attention to Kurt's shivering body.

"Hang in there, Kurt," Blaine shifted Kurt so that the boy's back is tightly pressed up against Blaine's chest, then Blaine started rubbing his hands up and down Kurt's torso, creating friction to warm up his boyfriend's icy-cold skin.

"Jeff, I got this, thanks," Blaine smiled appreciatively to his friend. "Can you go check on Wes and the guys to make sure they are okay?"

* * *

After Jeff exited the room, Blaine spread one of the blankets on the floor and took the cushions off the couches to make a makeshift bed. He laid on top the blanket and gently shifted Kurt's body on top of his, chest to chest, and wrapped the second blanket over both of them. Blaine pressed his legs against Kurt's thighs and started rubbing Kurt's naked back beneath the blanket, hoping to transfer as much of his body heat to Kurt as possible.

"Mmm," Kurt hummed as he rested his head over Blaine's shoulder, relaxing into his boyfriend's body. As the shivering eventually stilled, Kurt spoke through closed lids. "I can feel your heartbeat."

"Yeah?" Blaine chuckled, continuing to massage his boyfriend's body using his own and writhe his torso to create more friction against Kurt's chest.

"That feels good," Kurt sighed, and darted his lips to swipe a quick lick at Blaine's collarbone mischievously.

"Ugh, Kurt, that's just evil," Blaine groaned, knowing that Kurt can feel his hard-on.

"Well," Kurt said sleepily, "I think my tongue might be the only thing that I can move. My entire body is sore."

"So, are you saying that if I want to take advantage of my boyfriend right now, he won't be able to fight me off?" Blaine joked as his rubbing slowed down into a sensual massage that concentrated on Kurt's lower back.

"Hmmm," Kurt responded with a deep moan that only fueled Blaine's desire. "I guess I could still bite you."

Emboldened by Kurt's threat, Blaine slowly slipped his hands under Kurt's damp briefs and started kneading Kurt's butt cheeks.

"It is the perfect way to warm you up, you know," Blaine said in a throaty voice.

Blaine's fingers felt like burning rods against Kurt's frozen skin and the sensation forced Kurt's hips to buckle and grind into his lover beneath him.

The friction of their hard-ons pressing together pushed Blaine over the edge. Kurt gasped as Blaine flipped him over and started to peel off his briefs, careful to raise the fabric over the bulge. Eyeing hungrily at Kurt's naked, willowy form from head to toe, Blaine unbuttoned his jeans and took off the remains of his clothing with one quick push.

Noticing a fleck of garnet resting on Kurt's ankle, Blaine cupped his hand under Kurt's heel to fold Kurt's elegantly long legs so he can take a closer look at the anklet he had given Kurt just this morning. As he stared at the heart shaped garnet resting against Kurt's porcelain skin, suddenly something popped up in Blaine's mind. But he quickly pushed it to the back and focused on the task at hand.

Slowly Blaine laid a trail of kisses from Kurt's toes up his long legs, finally ending with a kiss on top of Kurt's erect cock.

"Oh god," Kurt moaned as Blaine's tongue lightly darted out to taste the bead of pre-cum on Kurt. Blaine then hoisted himself up to straddle Kurt's thighs and began to rub their erections together with his hand, using their pre-cums as lubricant. The sensation was so powerful Kurt had to press both of his hands onto his mouth to stifle a scream.

Then holding their cocks tight against each other, Blaine lowered himself to cover Kurt, trapping their erections between their sweat covered bodies.

Just as Blaine began to move, Kurt suddenly remembered the predicament they were in and froze. "Wait, Blaine, what are we doing?" Kurt started to push against Blaine's chest. "Is the door even closed?"

Blaine arched his back like a cobra and looked over the couch toward the door. "Nope, door is wide open," Blaine replied as he bent down and started planting kisses along Kurt's collar bone.

Kurt whimpered, and grabbed Blaine's hair to guide his lover to his nipples, which Blaine lapped at hungrily. Blaine had to force himself not to thrust into Kurt with abandon, but all sanity got thrown out of the window when Kurt's delicate fingers began dancing down Blaine's back and ended up cupping the curves of Blaine's ass, bringing his hips closer to Blaine.

As their cocks rubbed against each other, Blaine taunted his back to let out a low growl and instantly buckled his hips to grind down onto Kurt frantically. Kurt responded just as eagerly, rutting and hitching up against Blaine, hoping for more friction. Knowing that the door was open, Kurt tried to smother his moans by biting on his fist, but Blaine reached up and swatted the hand away to replace the first with his own mouth, drinking Kurt's moans into his own, feeling the vibrations coming deep within Kurt's throat and moaning back in response.

Blaine couldn't believe that the spurs of vibration coming from Kurt's mouth were just as erotic as the heat pressed between them. The countertenor had turned the cavern between their throats into an erogenous zone, sending shock waves of pleasure into Blaine's lower belly with every whimper and moan.

Blaine could feel that Kurt was getting close; Kurt's hands stopped flopping around and were slowly becoming taunt as the boy fisted the fabric of the blankets. Knowing how Kurt likes to get off, Blaine slowed down the rutting and started to slide his body up and down Kurt in long, hard strokes. Kurt immediately responded, his eyes staring fervently into Blaine's in a deep shade of purple.

"Come with me, together," Blaine's low growl was so full of lust Kurt nearly screamed as he felt Blaine's breath against his ear. Kurt wanted to aimlessly thrash into his boyfriend, but Blaine held Kurt at the hips and forced the boy to lay still as he took his time with long, languishing strokes. The denial of rapid pleasure practically made Kurt cry, and the desire quickly built up so strongly that Kurt was close to blacking out.

"Blaine, now!" Kurt screamed as he bit down on Blaine's shoulder. Then without warning Blaine shifted to short, hard thrusts, and Kurt lost it, the ecstasy rolling hard through his shuddering limbs like spasms of electricity. At the sight of his lover's orgasm, Blaine came as well and saw fireworks as he grappled onto the boy below him with all fours, levitating Kurt's arched back off the ground.

* * *

"I think we are going to need some ropes to tie Nick down," Wes mused as he and the Warblers walked back to the Salisbury Library. "All that adrenaline is making him bounce off the walls."

"Hey, I can't believe you guys are giving me a hard time about this," Nick hissed back, limbs twitching as he tried to still his restless body. "May I remind the group that I just took one for the team?"

"Hey!" Nick smacked right into Jeff's back and realized that Wes and Jeff were standing like two statues outside the library door. The two boys looked alarmed, as if there was an invisible barrier preventing the Warblers from entering the room. "What's going on, Jeff? You look traumatized."

"Ugh," Jeff turned around, and Nick could see the blond boy was in all different shades of red, all the way up to his ears.

Just then a series of short feminine moans could be heard from inside the library, coming from behind the maroon couch. It was obvious whoever made the sound tried to stifle the noise, but the muffled staccato could still be heard clearly by the very embarrassed Warblers.

"Are they serious?" Dave whispered, voicing the sentiment of the group.

"Okay, guys, roll-call," Dru's voice coming behind them nearly knocked them off their feet in shock.

"What's going on here?" Dru eyed the four boys, noticing their bright scarlet skin. Then her eyes widened as she heard a throaty moan coming from inside the library.

"Wow," Dru looked shocked. "Are they?"

The four boys and a lady stood in stunned silence outside the library.

Wes was the first to recuperate. The council leader turned around and began to make his way toward the common room, followed by the fellow Warblers, leaving Dru still in a daze at the door.

Finally, Dru shook her head and headed out toward the courtyard.

"This is without a doubt, the most liberal school I have ever seen!"


End file.
